


A New Definition of Insanity

by Moons_Li_Luna



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Experiments, Gore, Murder, Supernatural - Freeform, Wendigo, Wraith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-06 19:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17350922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moons_Li_Luna/pseuds/Moons_Li_Luna
Summary: Marcellus was abandoned by his team. Sacrificed in the middle of the woods to be eaten by the monsters that were hunting them down, but he refused to die,He refused to go down so easily,And he would kill every last one of the people who betrayed him.





	1. Origin of Fear

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be drawing scenes and posting them on my insta (Silver_Moon_Artist121)

It was supposed to be a simple scouting mission. Get in, get out, get paid. 

Marcellus was a man in his late twenties, strawberry blonde hair cut short and blue eyes rimmed by fatigue and stress. He fiddled with his gloves and spared a glance at his other teammates. Carson and the rookies had met up with him already in full uniform, Carson being the only one who was at least amicable enough to introduce himself. Marcellus grimaced slightly and donned his helmet, securing it with a resounding click. It was unlikely they would ever meet again so formalities were spared. 

Marcellus and his team landed in a dense Russian forest. Gargantuan black pine trees blocked their transport from prying eyes, and the thick layering of snow allowed them to avoid any unwanted run-ins with locals. The trek to the abandoned base was punctuated only by the bickering of the rookies and the whistling of the harsh wind; Marcellus swore he could hear voices if he listened closely enough. Dressed in covert military gear the four of them were like clones, each with a different set of instructions handed to them minutes before being dropped off. 

Carson, the temporary leader, handed out radios and flares to the other three. 

“You’ve all got your own gear,” he tugged the strap of his own pack for emphasis.

“If anything goes wrong, or if you’re missing a tool radio the team and we’ll work it out from there.”

Marcellus glanced warily between the rookies; they’d been bickering the whole time and he was beginning to doubt their ability to cooperate during the mission. Carson led the team through the last quarter of the trip, and upon reaching the rusting gates both rookies shut up for a blissful moment of silence.

Arriving at the abandoned base Carson gave them the recon coordinate points and the go-ahead to start the mission. Carson looked around the rusting rails and the grime covered walls shivering in disgust.

“Let’s make this quick: I don’t want to be stuck in this place any longer than we have to.” 

The rookies murmured in agreement for once.

According to their typed instructions Marcellus was to take the basement and search for any files that could be even remotely legible. Marcellus split from the group and passed through dilapidated concrete hallways silently thankful that the hydroelectric system feeding the lights had lasted so long. 

Along his wandering he finally came across the emergency staircase leading to the basement. Unidentifiable grime and a severe roach infestation made the stairs treacherous to walk through. Marcellus grimaced as every step he took ended with a hard crunch and a wet slap while he descended into the cramped abyss. The air became thicker the closer he got to the bottom, and he could smell corroded steel mixed with the sour scent of decayed vegetation, but the odor was the least of his worries, he could barely breath with whatever miasma had taken up the space the air should have been. 

Eventually it gave way at the bottom with little hindrance to his stride. Although his surroundings were pitch black, his visor came equipped with night vision and a second later his world was bathed in green. 

Maneuvering around pipes and rubble, he made his way to the first door. The handle jerked in his hand for a second before breaking off with a soft ‘clack.’ Marcellus dropped the handle and wiped the rust stains off his gloved hand in disdain. He fished through his pack and found the cutting torch tucked inside; he stared admiringly at the white flame that sprang to life before cutting away at the locking mechanism. 

Once inside he spent all of three minutes before giving up on the search. The papers in the room had been destroyed by water damage from a burst pipe overhead, and no amount of terrible 1950s cabinets would stop a years worth of water from eating the files.

He was lucky with the next door when it opened with little resistance and could begin his rummaging anew. Six rooms and a half dead rat later he was finally at the last door this one seemed to be some operating theater with smooth tile and drains every ten feet. The air was suddenly breathable again, and he almost struggled at the sudden intake of breath.

There were tools and tables but his focus was on the steel file cabinet tucked away in the corner, still in perfect condition. He grabbed handfuls of the files and placed them in his bag, but paused as he glanced curiously at the file in his hands. His Russian was rusty, and the file was fairly damaged, but the few words he could make out sent chills down his spine.

“Experiment failed, subject 3389 could not give into the temptation.”

“——-More volunteers needed for hunting exercise.”

The last file in the cabinet was bloodstained and short, but the few sentences were enough to make him radio his team in fear.

“Experiment was a success, Subject 4001 has accepted living ‘volunteers’ and has begun transformation. 4001 has consumed all other subjects, proving that previous methods were obsolete. Use for battlefield will be possible once diet is completed. Tell Issac to prepare incinerators. Mass graves will arouse suspicion.”

He stood there a second before the radio static was cut by a voice.

“This is Carson, what’s the situation?”

“Marcellus, I’m requesting caution on the field, I found files in here that have me worried about the work here. Be prepared for traps or animals.”

“Copy, I’ll relay to the other two.”

Marcellus heard a crash behind him and whirled around only to find nothing. His paranoia forced him into high alert and his heart steadily rose its pace making itself known in his ears. He glimpsed something quickly dart behind a crate and he pulled out his knife prepared to make a run for the exit at a moments notice.

Marcellus stood there for what felt like an eternity, the silence becoming an almost taunting aspect to the grotesque scenery, and little by little, his paranoia ground down on the smallest of noises. 

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Slowly he crawled towards the exit, constantly facing the spot where he’d last seen the creature in case it thought it could creep up on him. His heel eventually made contact with the door and he spun so fast he almost slammed into it face first. The second he set foot outside of the doorway he heard feet running behind him, and he didn’t need to be told twice before he was in a dead sprint for the staircase. 

He breathed hard as he parkoured across the hallway, cursing himself for not clearing the debris when he had the chance. A twisted pipe caught him by the ankle and stole a precious second from him, but there was no time to think he had to get up he had to—

A piece of his shoulder was viciously bitten off of him. He registered the noise before the feeling, a sickening crunch followed by a drawn-out squelch as his tendons were torn from his shoulder blades. The feeling was akin to that of searing hot blades digging, cutting, and twisting into his exposed skin. A sickening cool brought on by the loss of nerve endings was then replaced by the burning in tenfold. He couldn’t even scream in the two seconds it took to unfold. Adrenaline kicked in and he pushed off whatever was on him and scrambled up the stairs faster than he had known to be humanly possible. 

An ear-splitting scream sounded behind him and he could do nothing more than return it. The scent of iron was almost enough to make him vomit and he couldn’t even force himself to look at the wound for fear of what he’d see.

Rounding the last corner, he finally found himself with Carson. Relief flooded his features as he stumbled closer to the exit. 

“Carson! Please you-you have to help me-!”

Carson gave one look at his shoulder and grabbed the bag off of Marcellus: his face was unreadable behind his visor. He made to follow Carson, but the second he tried Carson whirled around and pulled his gun on him. Marcellus froze in shock: pain muddled his brain and he stood there stupidly as Carson walked to the exit.

“W-what are you doing? Carson please-!”

Carson closed the steel door with a resounding clang just as Marcellus heard the creature running into the area with him. 

Marcellus shook violently at the realization he’d just been abandoned. No. He’d just been sacrificed to whatever the hell that thing was. He was going to be sick. The pain of his injury ripped through his brain as the adrenaline wore off; he gasped in agony as torrents of cold sweat and blood ran down his uniform. Marcellus’ eyes were wide as he slowly turned to face the creature.

Creatures, he realized belatedly. 

There were two of them. Disgusting contorted things that looked like some grotesque cross between a starved human and a deformed roadkill deer. The biggest one had blood dripping out of its mouth and he realized with a dangerous sluggishness it was his own blood this thing was licking off of its teeth.

He screwed his eyes shut as it lunged at him, an inhuman squeal cutting the air in its wake. He waited for what felt like an eternity before he dared open his eyes. 

He opened them in time to see both creatures strangled by something much larger than either of them. It was almost like looking at a person, but where skin was defined and opaque this one was transparent and resembled a mist more than an actual layer of cells. To top it off it was tinted an ethereal blue. It would have been beautiful if not for the glowing skeleton and sharp arches of electricity stretching across its body. It illuminated the poorly lit room in what could only be described as absolute and unbridled fury. Marcellus couldn’t see its face behind the wild curtain of stone gray hair, but he would bet his life it was contorted in an animalistic rage.

The blood loss finally got to him. He fell away from the scene and slumped against the wall. He could barely register the absolute insanity of the events unfolding. Marcellus fought to keep his eyes open a moment longer, just long enough to see the event unfold, but it was a losing battle against blood loss. Satisfied with how easily the larger creature was beating the other two into the cold concrete Marcellus closed his eyes and welcomed unconsciousness like a saving grace.


	2. Ultimatum

Marcellus woke up to silence. He hadn’t expected to wake up at all so saying he was surprised would be an understatement. 

He shifted to his left to sit up, but immediately regretted the action as it sent a searing pain shooting through the injury in his shoulder. He curled up on himself and remembered disdainfully the events that had led to his current state of health. After a second of breathing through his teeth he carefully propped himself up on his right arm and looked at his surroundings.

He definitely wasn’t at the Russian base anymore. 

Plain concrete walls had been replaced by white borders and body holding freezers. X-rays hung on powerless light boards, and a large section of the wall opposite the freezers were covered in decayed notes. 

He was in a morgue. 

The overhead light above him allowed him to notice the steel table right next to his which held gauze, cloth, scissors, two green bottles of antiseptic, and an apple. The last item made him do a double take as his stomach complained at its emptiness.

He sat up slowly and inspected the red and yellow fruit. It was small and seemed to be fairly fresh, save for a bruise near the top. He took a bite and eventually rolled off of the table wincing as his shoulder protested the action heavily. Someone had gone through the trouble to bandage and possibly stitch it, but blood was already seeping through the gauze.

He held his bad arm for a moment and carefully maneuvered over to the steel table, reaching for the cloth and scissors silently thankful for the first aid training he’d taken back in college. The makeshift sling helped lessen the strain on his demolished shoulder and allowed him to continue exploring. 

He walked past the small ring of light provided overhead and carefully maneuvered himself to the door. It was easy enough to spot because of the light seeping in underneath, and a quick inspection showed no movement on the other side.

Walking through the door Marcellus hissed as his eyes adjusted to the glaring light of the staircase. It was now he noticed someone had changed out his black uniform for a plain set of oversized hospital clothes. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed earlier considering the fabric was much flimsier than Kevlar.

Ascending the staircase he took a sharp right turn and headed up another smaller set. The wooden door at the end was shockingly heavy. It might have been blocked, but after a moment of ramming into it with his good shoulder, it finally opened enough for him to squeeze through. 

The door opened into a large white room adorned with simple terracotta tile floors and a high arching roof. The scene was completed with half a dozen steel frame beds lined up against the walls in rows facing each other accompanied by curtains and IV stands. The late afternoon light streaming in through the windows painted everything in an idyllic pink-orange light. 

Marcellus thought it was an oddly calming sight considering he was probably in an abandoned hospital.

The room definitely looked abandoned, but everything in it was clean and neat suggesting that it was left without a hurry. Marcellus walked straight through the rows and out the oak door into what looked like the main hall of the compound.

Unlike the previous room this one fit the haunted hospital vibe much better. Old lights flickered constantly and clashed awkwardly with the afternoon light filtering in, and the white walls were chipped in multiple places revealing the black concrete underneath; a sight which unfortunately forced him to relive recent events. Eight large oak doors ran the length of the hallway and contained signs which Marcellus could not decipher. He cursed his lousy Russian 101 teacher for that.

He decided against opening another door for the sake of his one good shoulder and instead took a left into another opening; luckily this one led straight to the compounds entrance. 

Marcellus shuddered at the sight before him. Large dark oak carvings swirled up into the ceiling and ended in angelic faces staring down at him resembling a church more than they did a hospital. He felt oddly condescended. The reception area was blocked off by a set of steel bars mimicking that of a jail cell, and a survey of the door revealed it to be unlocked. Marcellus counted his blessings and continued forward.

After pushing open the suspiciously prison-like reception area Marcellus neared the oak entrance and, after taking a second to flip off the nearest angel, pushed open the last set of doors. 

The cold air hit him hard as it rushed to fill in the warmer interior of the hospital, and the cold burned his face with the sudden change. Marcellus squeezed his eyes shut to block out the wind and took a step forward only to run face first into something solid. 

“Holy son of a-!”

He jerked away as whatever he collided with sent an odd feeling of almost electrified numbness to his nose and Marcellus couldn’t help yelling out in shock. 

Marcellus’ outburst was cut short by a very large hand grabbing him by the shoulder. He opened his eyes and felt the blood drain from his face as his blue irises made contact with a pair of milky white ones. 

Marcellus froze. He’d heard about people freezing in fear, and he’d seen plenty of deer do the same on the old road to his house, but living the moment was a helplessness he wasn’t used to. He heard his heartbeat in his ears like some demented timer. Every tick leading down to when this thing would reach out and strangle him like the other creatures. 

His thoughts raced a million miles an hour. How did it find him? Had it gotten to the rest of his team? Had this thing brought him here? He woke up in a morgue, what if it was trying to kill him? What was he doing?! 

The creature shifted in its spot and Marcellus prepared himself for his inevitable death. It slowly raised the hand that wasn’t on marcellus’ shoulder; his face was nervous but inside he was cringing as he could see every glowing bone in its body twisting and shifting to accommodate the action of moving its arm. Eventually the grotesque show had ended, and the creature ended up holding a plaid blanket out towards him rather meekly. Wait, what?

“What?” 

Marcellus repeated his thoughts dumbly. 

The creature nodded its head towards him, but the large antlers on it made the motion awkward and longer than necessary. Marcellus stared up into its face somewhat startled, but now very curious at the turn of events. The creature had a solid two feet of height on him, and with the way it was slouched over him its hair just barely brushed both of his shoulders. 

Marcellus gently took the blanket from its hand and held it for a moment, not sure what to do with it now that he had it. The creature huffed lightly and wrapped the blanket around marcellus’ shoulders. 

It was soft in the way most wool was and, having absorbed the others heat, was welcomingly warm to the touch. Marcellus felt the tension in his shoulders relax at the warmth, but he refused to let his guard down. This thing might have saved him, but everyone wanted something this thing couldn’t be any different.

It gave a huff of satisfaction and turned to walk away from him. It took a glance back at Marcellus and he vaguely understood that it wanted him to follow. He stared at the snow covered ground and then back at his bare feet with disdain; he would strangle this thing for taking his shoes. He took four leaping steps to reach up to it and as soon as he was beside it the creature led him through the courtyard and out past the rusting gate. Marcellus chanced a glance back at the hospital out of curiosity. It looked like a church with a high arching entrance made of gray stone and vertical windows decorating its sides. The courtyard was simple and had what looked like a small fountain in the middle of an overgrown garden. A sign off to the right of the gates read ‘Kadykchan City Hospital’, the name was familiar to him.

Marcellus turned around and continued to follow the creature. The snow stung his feet, but Marcellus ignored it. His thoughts wandered further and further away from him until he was completely engulfed by them.

He was jolted from his wandering by the creature flicking his ear. 

“Ow! Watch it!”

Marcellus rubbed his ear irritably while glaring daggers at his companion. He must have zoned out for most of the walk because he couldn’t see single a trace of the hospital from any direction. The mountains were also much closer than they had been previously, just how far had they traveled? The creature gave him a smug smile and pointed to the door of a log cabin.

A basic brown door and a single electric light adorned the cabin’s entrance in the weak evening sun. Marcellus huffed and took the initiative in entering. 

He could see most of the cabin from the door alone. A small kitchen made up of a sink, two cupboards, and a stove connected seamlessly into the living room which consisted of six bookcases, an unlit fireplace, and a pile of blankets. 

There were two doors at the back of the cabin, but Marcellus planted himself firmly beside the door frame. There was something off about the cabin. It almost didn’t feel real; like a memory played back vividly in a dream. Marcellus was sure that if he woke up, he wouldn’t remember a thing.

The creature immediately made itself at home in the blankets going as far rolling around once or twice for good measure. Marcellus stood for another moment before slowly walking towards the nearest bookshelf. 

It was empty save for a few Russian books on human anatomy. The next case held multiple mythology books in multiple languages. A lonely leather journal bustling with excess pages and notes caught marcellus’ eye, and he struggled to reach for it from the top shelf of the bookcase. He could feel the worn spine fraying beneath his fingers and the book was surprisingly heavy to hold.

Sitting down beside the creature on the floor Marcellus flipped the book open to a random page and read aloud.

“The wendigo is a Native American myth centering around spirits of men who have been transformed after feasting on human flesh.”

Marcellus grimaced at the mental image it conjured. His mind immediately reeling to his attack, was that what they were? Wendigos? The files had mentioned ‘hunting exercises’ and ‘live volunteers’, were they making wendigos? 

The creature shifted beside him, but he ignored it in favor of the next chapter.

“The wraith has roots in Victorian English myths as a ghost or spirit, but we know better. This demon feasts on the energy given off immediately during death and will kill until its hunger is satisfied.”

A worn picture of a blurry blue ghost with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth was taped to the next page. Marcellus slowly turned to look at the creature beside him and couldn’t help feeling incredulous at the thought. The creature looked between him and the book worriedly. Marcellus raised a brow in disbelief.

“You don’t honestly expect me to believe you’re a wraith.” 

Marcellus turned back to the book and continued to read as it glanced over his shoulder. He would be stuck here for a long while and he was determined to learn everything he could about whatever was happening in the forest. 

Someone created those wendigos, someone let them loose in that lab, and someone was trying to get their hands on that information again. 

Marcellus felt cold dread at the thought of someone recreating the experiments. He couldn’t let it happen. With grim determination he realized what he would have to do.

He would kill his team if it was the last thing he would do.


End file.
